


The Path Between

by janitor



Series: The Gilded Eyes of Kaga [2]
Category: Dororo (Anime 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Conspiracies, Demons, Gen, Illustrated, Loyalty, Minor Character Deaths, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Political Intrigue, Sign Language, The usual canon body horror stuff, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janitor/pseuds/janitor
Summary: Through an odd turn of fate, Dororo finds himself as a messenger in service of the Daigo family, and with an unlikely friend in Hyakkimaru, the miraculous and divine protector of the land. As war descends upon Kaga province, Dororo is determined to follow his big brother, wherever that may lead him.(AU where Hyakkimaru was not abandoned at birth, and grew up in the Daigo estate.)
Relationships: Dororo & Hyakkimaru (Dororo)
Series: The Gilded Eyes of Kaga [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860418
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

Fresh maple buds and twigs in shades of blood red waved against the cold metal-blue sky. Delicate flowers like little pure white souls nestled in deep green leaves. The view from Hyakkimaru’s open chambers would be the standard picturesque vista of summer, if not for the tiny, upside-down head that was poking down from the roof awning and blocking the scenery.

“Hey, you up? Aniki?” The boy waved his arm.

Hyakkimaru, primly seated by a low table, turned his head towards him in acknowledgement.

“I’m back,” said Dororo. “And I got something for you.” He proudly gave a crumpled scroll to Hyakkimaru, and held out a hand expectantly for his payment. Hyakkimaru plucked a manju from a plate resting on the table and gave it to him.

“Got it from a temple on the way,” said Dororo through a mouthful of sticky rice. He held up his other hand to sign: _Is it good?_

Hyakkimaru unraveled the scroll. _Rice, eight sacks. Oil, thirteen jars…_ It was just an inventory list of supplies. He shook his head.

“Crap, guess I grabbed the wrong one.” Dororo scratched his head. He only had time to snatch a random scroll before he was discovered, and he couldn’t exactly read the contents. “Here, I’ll take it if you don’t want it,” he said, accompanying with sign.

Hyakkimaru held the parchment to his chest. It may not have been very interesting, but he was still going to pour over it later. The lack of new reading materials in the estate was quite dire.

“Okay, keep it.” Dororo grinned and licked his fingers. “No takebacks on the manju though, sorry.”

 _Go to yard?_ Hyakkimaru freed both his hands to sign, making the square sign between his thumb and forefingers that meant the training courtyard in the language they had mutually developed.

 _“Sure, race you there!”_ Dororo gleefully took advantage of already being out the room before Hyakkimaru could get his cane, though pulling himself right side up made him dizzy for a second. He took a shortcut straight across the roof, and landed with the soft dirt of the courtyard beneath his feet. He made a show of doing a victorious flourish while Hyakkimaru came down through the hallway.

Dororo threw pebbles at the training dummies, while Hyakkimaru sat on a bench under the shade of a maple and studied the scroll. He already knew these basic characters by heart, but he liked seeing how different writers formed the letters in their unique ways. This one had thin strokes and distinctively shaky trailing lines, like whoever wrote it was afraid to press too hard on the brush for fear of breaking it. Eventually he rolled up the paper and tucked it away, then Dororo egged him into a contest of who could hit the dummy’s head on the far side of the courtyard the most times. Dororo had a very respectable aim and beaned the target more often than not, and he clapped proudly when his big brother made a successful shot. He thought Hyakkimaru was making very promising improvements to his stiff-armed throw. They kept at it until the gardener came by and shouted at them for messing up the rocks, then they ran away into the topiaries, Dororo laughing as he pulled Hyakkimaru along by the arm.

They sprinted past a few household servants, who turned their heads with mild concern, but mostly paid them no mind. His presence on the estate wasn’t exactly officially sanctioned, which is why he scaled the walls to get in and out, but it was tolerated, which is why the watchmen didn’t shoot at him, and even Hyakkimaru’s gruff bodyguard let them play together, as long as they didn’t do anything dangerous. Dororo broke into a stifled giggling fit as he dove behind a hydrangea bush. Hyakkimaru was pressed up against a tall cypress, radiating amusement even through his stoic mask.

Sadly, their moment of respite couldn’t last forever. Dororo was actually here for a reason besides seeing his bro. _Gotta see mama_ , he signed. 

Hyakkimaru pointed him in the direction of the residence’s meeting hall, and gave him a pat on the head as farewell. Dororo threw his hands up in exaggerated displeasure back at him, but his legs were already carrying him away.

“Mama,” Dororo practically ran into Lady Nui’s arms. She held him with affection. “I got that scroll to the fisherman,” he said.

“Well done, Dororo,” she smiled. “Was there any trouble?”

“Nope. He was very happy, said this year’s catch was even better than the last.” Dororo said innocently, burying his face in her robes. Of course, he knew full well that the fisherman was not an ordinary peasant. Not being able to read might have been a desirable quality in a messenger, but he always showed the scrolls to Hyakkimaru first, who then interpreted it in sign. He had no ploys about double-crossing his mama, it just gave him reassurance to know he wasn’t unknowingly carrying messages for Daigo or something like that. He trusted that Nui was nothing like the warlord, and always concerned herself with caring for her people.

She gave him a small handful of coins from a silk pouch. “Now, I do have another job, but you deserve a break, so it’s only if you want to take it.”

“What is it?” he wouldn’t turn down a chance to earn some more money.

“Hyakkimaru needs more medicine for his eyes and shoulders, the herbalist who makes it lives some distance from here. Would you go pick some up?”

Dororo would, in fact, be delighted to run an errand for his big brother.

Nui said they still had four day's supply at the estate. She gave him directions and told him what to ask for. As he was about to leave, he spotted Hyakkimaru sitting out in the garden, and went to say goodbye. 

“Sorry I gotta leave again so soon, but it’s a really important job,” he said. _Be back in four days._

_Where to?_

_Medicine doctor’s place. Get medicine for you._

Hyakkimaru tilted his head for a second, thinking, then signed: _At the two roads. Don’t go north. Go west._

Dororo tried to recall the layout of the land. At the base of the hill there was a dirt road leading northwest that would get him halfway there, then at the crossroads marker it split into two. Both would lead him to his destination, but the northern path was more direct and easier to walk on. _How come?_

_Demon._

“Uhh.” Dororo wasn’t sure if he meant it literally, or just used the sign to indicate some kind of danger blocking the path. He had definitely used both meanings before.

 _Don’t go north,_ Hyakkimaru signed again insistently. Dororo reassured him that he would not. He swore Hyakkimaru had to have some kind of psychic foreknowledge, with how much he seemed to know sometimes.

He had two days to get there, so he travelled at an easy pace, following the road through the city and some lively towns, leisurely strolling through the crowded markets. At the crossroads he veered off onto the westward trail, then in the evening he came across an abandoned shed. He could have walked a bit further, but it was a convenient place to shelter, so he stopped and made a fire for the night, ate some rice cakes he bought at the last town he passed by, and fell asleep counting the stars through the cracks in the roof with a simple contentment in his heart. The next day he made it to the herbalist’s secluded residence by noon. The woman invited him to sit by the hearth and have some stew while she prepared the medicine.

“Lucky thing you took the trail here, boy. A dark cloud passed over the main road last night. Unnatural.” she shuddered.

“Yeah, lucky.” Dororo looked curiously around the herbalist’s home, taking in the tools, the bundles of herbs, and the dozens of protective charms meant to ward off demonic spirits hung over the every entrance. One of Hyakkimaru’s engraved bamboo tokens dangled from the window frame. Beneath it, a young man lay unconscious, with several wounds on his body dressed and bandaged. His chest heaved unevenly in a troubled sleep. “What happened to that guy?”

“Poor dear came from the temple on the hill down south,” the herbalist said as she ground herbs with her mortar and pestle. “Got attacked by ghouls.”

“Just a ghoul?” he gulped. “Definitely not… whatever that thing was?”

“He wouldn’t have lived through a demon attack.” She reached to place a hand on the patient’s forehead. “Said it was some big lizard things, nasty critters are probably making a nest in that temple now.”

“It’ll probably attack the visitors too,” Dororo said nervously. Travelers on the road liked to stop by them, and the herbalist would be too busy tending to the patient to go out and warn them of the danger.

“You’re heading back to Daigo’s castle, aren’t you? If I could trouble you, tell the Lady about it, don’t try to go to the temple on your own. We can hold on for a couple of days.” The herbalist gave a reassuring smile as she pressed a bundle of poultices into his hands. 

He wasted no time getting back as fast as his legs could carry him. By the time the sun was low he was at the crossroads, so he sat down just long enough to catch his breath before he kept running. By the light of the moon, he finally saw the hill with the Daigo estate on top rise up in front of him. A part of his brain twinged in guilt for feeling so much relief at the sight of a samurai lord’s castle. But damn it, he was hungry and dirty and exhausted. As much as it injured his pride, at least it meant he’ll get fed and a place to rest. After scrambling over the walls with the package firmly held under his chin, he noticed the estate was strangely active this late at night, with household staff hurrying everywhere, cleaning and preparing the grounds for guests, clearly not low status guests either. If the smoke billowing from the kitchen chimneys and the myriad of delicious smells were any indication, a whole feast being prepared in there.

Lady Nui was not to be found in her personal chambers, or the meeting hall, so he went to Hyakkimaru’s room again. He was there, pacing around slowly in circles, practicing walking without using his canes. He stopped to acknowledge Dororo, sitting down in front of him, but he seemed more subdued than usual. There was no subtle perking up in his shoulders or head that Dororo could pick up.

“What’s going on?” he asked along with a sign.

 _Going soon,_ Hyakkimaru signed back.

 _Going to a temple?_ Dororo replied questioningly. Hyakkimaru went around visiting temples to bless people on a fairly regular basis, and though he was always surrounded by at least a dozen guards, it hardly warranted this level of activity in preparation. Not unless there was a huge festival coming up, and there was not.

 _No. Going far._ Hyakkimaru emphasized far several times with his hand.

“Huh? You’re leaving?!” Dororo grabbed onto Hyakkimaru’s sleeves, but his general feelings of distress got across clearly enough. _Why?_ he freed a hand to ask.

 _Over…_ Hyakkimaru traced a character in the air. Dororo squinted at it in frustration. He changed to tracing a jagged line with bumps up and down. Pointed rooftops? No, that meant mountains, _over the mountains,_ but that still did not answer his question. He tugged at his sleeve, asking and signing _Why?_ again.

This time, Hyakkimaru signed _Daigo_ , drawing the criss-cross scar across his forehead, then pointing out to the hall. It served as both his answer and a warning that Lord Daigo was home. Dororo got the message and covered his mouth with a hand, continuing their conversation with only signs.

_How long will you be gone?_

_Don’t know._

_Who’s going? Mama? Tahomaru?_

_Just me._ Hyakkimaru paused for a moment. _Hyogo, maybe._

Dororo frowned, still not getting any closer to comprehending the situation. The Lord of the house didn’t let Hyakkimaru go anywhere alone. _Do you want to go?_ he asked.

Hyakkimaru paused for even longer, before he signed a non-committal _Don’t know._

Dororo stomped his foot a couple times. He made a rapid series of signs that took a bit of deciphering, but managed to communicate the gist of the monsters that threatened the temple next to the medicine doctor.

 _Go tell mama. In the kitchen. Go._ Hyakkimaru ushered him out into the hall. He paid so little attention to his surroundings that he bumped right into the young lord of the house, who was pacing back and forth in the hallway in nightclothes, his bristly hair still drying from a bath.

“Oof! Watch it!“

“Ow, what- oh, it’s just the kid,” said Tahomaru.

“Did you know that Aniki is leaving!” Dororo whispered furiously. Politeness be damned, he had just enough patience left to remember to keep his voice down.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I gotta talk to ma- to the Lady!” Dororo sprinted past him. Tahomaru caught up to him easily with a few strides. 

“Wait up! Tell me what you know,” Tahomaru hissed under his breath.

“I dunno, that’s all Aniki told me! How do you _not_ know?”

“I have been attempting to ask Father! He won’t tell me anything about the guests we’re hosting tomorrow, I don’t even know _who_ they are-”

Tahomaru halted in front of the kitchen entrance like there was an invisible partition barring him. “Dororo! I want to talk to my mother!” He called futilely to the back of the boy already ducking through the legs of servants.

Dororo was far more comfortable in the staff’s area of the house, where he easily blended in with the servants and their children. He ducked nimbly between barrels of fruits and baskets of dried abalone and ovens loaded with steaming sweets. Lady Nui supervised the bustle of the kitchen from the center of it all, giving orders and keeping an eye on near-overflowing pots. She would be tired tomorrow, but some makeup would be sufficient cover the dark circles that were already starting to form under her eyes.

The number of eyes around stopped him from hugging her or calling her mama. That was something he could only do when they were alone. Also, there was the amount of dirt on him that would get on her nice red robes, never mind that he had already tracked it through half of the house. He handed over the bundle of medicine, then she leaned down so he could talk quietly in her ear. He searched her expression for any signs of worry. She seemed calm and composed, and that calmed him down a little too.

“Thank you for carrying the message back so quickly, Dororo. You did a very brave thing,” she said.

“They’ll be okay, right? You’ll send someone to kill those monsters?” Dororo whispered.

“Let me talk to the Lord. We will need a lot of guards on duty tomorrow, but I’m sure we could spare a few.” Nui stood up, briefly closing her eyes to ward off the rush to her head. “Saki, please manage the kitchen for a while, I will be back soon,” she called out.

Dororo knew his job was done here, and for his own sake he should probably just leave. Maybe he’d nab some food from the kitchen first, then hop around from village to village until he felt like coming back. But he had more pressing questions, so he followed her. “Aniki told me he’s leaving for the mountains,” he said, once they were out of the kitchen through the screen door that opened to the outside. “Why are you sending him away?”

Nui stood still. “He…yes. Tomorrow we are hosting guests from the Miwahito clan, and he will be going back to their home with them. As for why, well,” she dropped her voice to a very quiet tone. “The Miwahito are friends and allies with us. We’ve promised to defend each other if the Asakura attack, and we agreed to each send over a person to live with the other family, to show our trust in each other.”

“You mean like a hostage.”

“Not like that… Hyakkimaru will be well taken care of, and he will have people looking after him. You don’t need to worry about him. And of course, we will treat the Miwahito boy like the most honoured guest while he’s here.”

Dororo bit his lip. It sounded like Hyakkimaru would be gone as long as the Asakura were a threat, and Daigo had been fighting them on and off for as long as he remembered. It didn’t seem possible that it would ever end. “Uh huh, and if those Asakura samurai attack you, and they don’t come to help, are you still gonna treat him nicely?” His voice was small and resentful.

Nui looked away. “I’m sorry, child. Sometimes I forget that you’ve seen much of the world for your age. Yes, it is for the sake of protecting our alliance. But I trust that Hyakkimaru will be safe with them. Even safer than here, possibly.”

“Did you even ask him if he wanted to go?”

“Last evening,” she answered. She had written down the news, the reasoning, and as much of the details as she could. Hyakkimaru had read it, very carefully, several times over, before writing his response underneath in large uneven characters. “He wrote: ‘ _I would be honoured to represent our people in friendship and goodwill._ ’"

Hyakkimaru didn’t talk like that at all when he signed. Then again, they never needed to invent signs for that kind of fancy and formal language. Dororo noticed how quiet and still Nui had become, and reminded himself that she loved Hyakkimaru like she was his mama too. If even she agreed to it, then he would, at the very least, be safe. “Well, I asked him the same question too, and he didn’t say no,” he said, hoping that would make her feel better.

It seemed to at least bring her back into the present. “Ah, but first, let’s handle that situation with the temple. You stay out here.” She walked down the patio to the main suite. Dororo’s curiosity did not beat out his caution, so he stayed where he was, too far to overhear anything.

Nui returned a few moments later. “The Lord has sent out a swordsman to deal with the monsters,” she told him. Dororo felt himself finally let go of an anxious knot in his stomach that he wasn’t aware he had all this time, and now that it was gone, he was very aware of how hungry he was. Thankfully, Nui lead him back to the kitchen, and soon he was gulping down a bowl of warm hearty soup with meatballs made of fish.

“Dororo, if you’d like, you are welcome to stay tonight and tomorrow. I’m sure Hyakkimaru would enjoy spending some time with you before he leaves," Nui said.

“Okay,” he answered through a mouthful of noodles. 

“You’ll have to stay with the servants during mealtimes and the entertainment, but otherwise your time is yours. You won’t need to work for your food and board.” Nui called another servant over. “Please get young Dororo here a bath and a fresh change of clothes, and show him a place to sleep.”

“Uh, what kind of clothes?” Dororo put down his empty bowl.

Thankfully, he got a private space to change himself into a nice plain shirt, loincloth, and a slightly oversized hakama. He didn’t bathe with the basin of water he got, but at least scrubbed the dirt off his arms and legs, and washed his hair. The servant rolled out a mat for him in the corner of the servant quarters, he thanked her and settled down on it comfortably. But after a while, other people also came in to sleep, and then there were a dozen bodies around him, chests rising and falling. He used to be accustomed to sleeping in closed quarters like these, but then papa and mama died, and he got more used to sleeping alone. If he closed his eyes, and listened to all the slow even breathing around him, he could almost pretend he was in the bandit camp again.

He threw off his blanket and snuck out of the room, tip-toeing between the sleeping servants, then down the hall to Hyakkimaru’s chambers. Hyakkimaru was also still awake, lying in his futon. Filtered moonlight through the screens lightly outlined his form and reflected off his eyes, which flickered over to Dororo behind his porcelain mask.

 _Staying today. Can I sleep here?_ he asked, hoping there was enough light that Hyakkimaru could see his hands.

Hyakkimaru shifted back on his futon. It was plenty big enough to make room for two. He pulled his duvet off himself and draped it over Dororo. “Aren’t you gonna be cold?” Dororo murmured. “Right. Never mind.”

“Hey, Aniki.” _Thanks for warning me. About the demon._

Hyakkimaru patted him once on the cheek. He always tried to be gentle doing that. His arms were heavy, and if he was not careful controlling them it could hit harder than he intended.

“I’m glad you always look out for me, even if I’m not here with you most of the time,” Dororo said, mostly to himself, too vulnerable to want Hyakkimaru to know what he was saying. He thought about what he could have done for the temple if he didn’t have this place to come back to. He probably would have ran ahead, tried to gather up some locals to help. They would have axes, and chisels, and plenty of peasants even had swords. Adults knew how to defend themselves from ghouls and monsters just fine, but it would have been risky, and some people might have gotten hurt or killed. Instead, he just had to say a word to mama, and there was a well-trained swordsman on their way in the middle of the night. 

Wasn’t that better? he thought doubtfully.

 _I’ll miss you. Wish you didn’t have to go,_ he signed.

_I need to go._

_I know,_ Dororo reached out to hold his big brother’s hand for a moment. He didn’t want to cry. It wasn’t like Hyakkimaru was going to die, but he was going to lose him. _Wish you didn’t._

_I need to._

That was the one aspect where they were clearly not like brothers. He didn’t mind delivering a few messages for mama to help people, but not to help the Daigo family do what samurai did. He took no part in their wars and political deals and quashing of bandits. On the other hand, Hyakkimaru was indebted to them for saving his life, they were his family to him.

 _We’ll have fun tomorrow, okay?_ he signed, before exhaustion overcame him and he closed his eyes.

_Okay. We’ll have fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess I'm continuing this AU after all. This is gonna be a doozy for me.
> 
> A note on the depiction of the sign language: Dororo and Hyakkimaru use a self-invented home sign to communicate, it is not based on JSL or any other standard sign language, which did not exist in this era. When it's represented in text, it leans more towards a translation of the general meaning, rather than a strictly word-for-word gloss. I try to strike a stylistic balance between accurately depicting the features of a home sign, while not representing it in a way that makes it seem fragmented or lacking in grammatical structure.


	2. Chapter 2

About a dozen horses rode up to the gates of the castle at the rise of dawn, their arrival heralded by a great deal of fuss and fanfare. Half the riders displayed the Miwahito mon. The rest were Daigo’s men, sent to escort them from the mountain border. Dororo spied on the procession as much as he dared. Plenty of the servants and guards were doing it too, standing around and trying to look preoccupied as the people deemed important enough filed into the meeting hall. Daigo first, then the guests: a boy who was not much older than himself, plus three retainers. Tahomaru stiffly marched in after them with clenched fists - so he _had_ been informed of the purpose of the visit at some point. Mutsu and Hyogo did get to follow him in, Dororo noted.

Lastly, Nui went in with Hyakkimaru, supporting his balance with one arm as they walked. Hyakkimaru casted the barest glance in Dororo’s direction.

Daigo recited some meaningless formal greetings, then Nui recited some more meaningless formal greetings. The guests reciprocated the formality in turn. The boy- Dororo overheard his name was Miwahito Hidechiyo- spoke in a more halting voice than the adults. Daigo made some displeasured noises about Lord Miwahito’s lack of expediency. Hidechiyo apologized on behalf his father, and offered some diplomatic excuse or other. Dororo almost felt sorry for him.

Then Daigo started talking about the alliance, though it sounded like the terms had already been agreed upon, and he was just reiterating them for more of formality’s sake. Dororo couldn’t quite catch the words, what with the pair of guards arguing under their breaths beside him.

“Of course Miwahito didn’t want to make the deal if he could help it. He knows Daigo drives a hard bargain.”

“Like it or not, he should be fucking grateful.”

“All I’m saying is, he has a reason to mad-”

“He couldn’t afford to be mad if Daigo asked for his _wife_ in bed-“

“Who’s mad about what?” asked Dororo, purposefully just a little too loud. The two particularly politically-minded samurai jumped and turned their heads to him. With the way he was dressed, they probably thought he was some servant’s child running around the place.

“Shoo, kid. This is grown-up business,” one of them scowled. Listening to Daigo heap fine words on the guests about solidarity and friendship between clans was making him want to gag anyways, so he stomped out and ended up loitering by the stables, scuffing his feet in the dirt and pulling up clumps of weeds, and lost track of time until a porcelain finger tapped his shoulder.

‘Aniki?’ he looked up. On the far side of the estate, he could spot Daigo and Nui giving the guests a tour of the grounds.

_We’ll have fun?_ Hyakkimaru asked.

“Right, I promised, didn’t I?” he smiled. They strolled through the gardens for a while, then Hyakkimaru decided to circle back to the stable to see his white mare. He put his arms around the horse’s neck while she ate a thistle flower out of Dororo’s hand. He helpfully handed Hyakkimaru a comb so he could brush her mane.

Dororo blinked a few times when Hyakkimaru offered the comb to him, holding it in front of his face. Without thinking, he was holding onto the hem of his bro’s sleeve again.

_It’ll be okay,_ Hyakkimaru signed, like it wasn’t him who was going to be leaving everything he knew behind.

Dororo rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, cause I made up my mind. I’m going with you.”

###

There were more meetings and meals and entertainment functions Hyakkimaru had to be pulled away for. The Miwahito guests looked at him with expressions ranging from silent appraisal to open curiosity. They knew about the Gilded Eyes, and heard the stories of how his birth heralded the end of Kaga’s worst famine in living memory, but this was the first time any of them saw him in person.

After what had to be the last time they sat around for tea, the two sheltered from the prying eyes in Hyakkimaru’s room. _Help move things out?_ Hyakkimaru signed. Dororo helped him gather up a few belongings to bring out to the carriage in the stables.

_Want this?_ Dororo picked up a set of brushes from the table.

_No._ Hyakkimaru signed back. The Miwahito would have writing instruments to spare.

Dororo rummaged through a basket, and found a silk pouch on a string, emblazoned with the Daigo mon. _This?_

_Okay._ Hyakkimaru obligingly let Dororo hang it around his neck. His hand was hovering over the headless figurine of the Goddess of Mercy that had sat on a low shelf against the wall for the last sixteen years.

Dororo craned his neck to take a look at it. _Take it. It’s good luck._ He used their sign for protection, the same for guards and watchmen.

_It’s not._

_Then take it. To remember mama._ Hyakkimaru always cared so little for gifts and trinkets, he had almost nothing in his room that could be a memento to remind him of others. Even the scrolls Dororo stole for him, he disposed of once he committed them to memory.

Hyakkimaru tucked the soulless piece of wood into his robe.

Hidechiyo appeared at the door with one of his retainers carrying a pack of his belonging. Dororo realized with some ruefulness that the hostage would be moving in here. He looked around the bare room, and thought that he might never come back to this place if he could help it.

The Miwahito boy bowed politely. “I… I am grateful for the warm welcome into your home. I wish the Gilded Eyes well on his journey.” He seemed unsure whether he should address Dororo or Hyakkimaru.

Hyakkimaru nodded. The back brace under his clothes did not allow him to bow fully. “Sure… thanks,” Dororo bowed back awkwardly. He didn’t make it a habit to grovel, but he figured he wouldn’t be the one to make a bad impression on the poor terrified kid.

“I, um, I hope that his divine presence will bring some good fortune to my homeland,” Hidechiyo mumbled. “Is it true that… he can see the fate of a person’s soul?”

_He wants you to read him,_ Dororo signed. Hyakkimaru jerked his head so that his eyelids clicked shut, and focused on the presence of the souls in front of him. Both auras burned clean and pure.

_He is good,_ Hyakkimaru signed with his eyes still closed.

“Yep, probably no reincarnating into a nasty ghoul for you,” Dororo grinned. Hidechiyo smiled, looking a little relieved but mostly unsettled.

“Alright. Come on, Aniki.” Dororo pulled Hyakkimaru outside before the kid could start crying. The stables were busy with servants, not just packing new travel supplies for the Miwahito escorts, but also preparing for Daigo’s departure immediately after. Hyogo and Mutsu, accompanied by their young master, were inspecting the carriage. It was already heavily packed with travel essentials and all sorts of finery.

“It’s just... very sudden,” said Tahomaru. “You two have never been separated, have you?”

“Our job is to carry out what duty demands of us,” Mutsu tightened some knots over the canopy.

“It will not be forever, sir.” said Hyogo from under the carriage, where he was adjusting the axles.

“Maybe you should both go with him, extra protection can’t hurt.”

“We cannot both leave your side,” said Mutsu.

“Hmph. Let me help with that,” Tahomaru stepped up to help them pack the overflowing luggage into more secure positions.

“You do not have to concern yourself with this menial labour, sir. It is not you who is traveling.”

Tahomaru ignored their protests and shoved a package of medical supplies into a cranny between bundles of clothing. That was the thing, he thought. In any other circumstance, it should have been him. Lord Miwahito sent them his only surviving son, so as Daigo’s sole heir, he was the equivalent hostage. Hyakkimaru was a valuable figure, but he wasn’t a Daigo by name, he was a clanless orphan with no origins as far as the rest of the world knew. Speaking of whom, Hyakkimaru approached the stables with Dororo, and the small boy unloaded an armful of miscellaneous trinkets onto the carriage. Tahomaru huffed and untied the tarp again, shoving the belongings under it. “Have we confirmed everyone who _will_ be traveling?” he asked.

“It will be myself, the physician, and three other house guards.” Hyogo emerged from under the carriage, dusting off his clothes.

“Not the potter?”

“His specialized kiln is too heavy to bring along. We will have new prosthetics delivered across the mountain when necessary.”

“Got room for one more?” Dororo piped up.

“No, the carriage is full,” Tahomaru glared down at him.

“I don’t take up much space.” Dororo crossed his arms. “If so many people are going with Aniki, why can’t I?”

“Dororo, this is the Daigo family’s affairs. We have been charged to protect him,” said Hyogo, not unkindly.

“I can do that too! I’m not the greatest thief in the land for nothing.”

“You can’t,” Tahomaru said firmly. “Don’t think for a moment that you serve my family, just because my mother took pity on you.”

That hit a nerve. “Like I’d ever want to serve your stinking samurai family!“

“That’s enough, child.” Mutsu quickly pulled him away, at the same time that Hyakkimaru put himself squarely between his brothers, holding up his cane.

“Young lord, forgive him for speaking out of turn,” said Hyogo, though he looked like he was quite willing to give the kid a solid cuff on the ear.

“It’s fine, he’s just a brat,” Tahomaru scowled. Dororo really tested his patience at times, but his desire to not upset Hyakkimaru on their last day together outweighed that right now. Besides, there was no pride in disciplining a scrawny little orphan in his mind.

He pushed Hyakkimaru’s cane down and away from him. It hit him that this really was the last time they had together. Who knew when would be the next time he could take Hyakkimaru horseriding around the castle hill, or stroll through the gardens with him, offering an arm to lean on? There’d be no chance to get any last words off his chest at the formal sendoff tomorrow morning, and he didn’t want them to part on unsaid misgivings, so he sent Hyogo to fetch something to write with, who in short order returned with a blank piece of parchment and a greasy charcoal pencil. He started writing some platitudes and farewells, but it seemed so pointless that he scratched it out and started again. He chose his next words carefully, not wanting to take the unnecessary risk of acknowledging their blood relation out here in the open.

After scribbling out his words several more times, and running out of room so that he had to squeeze the last few characters across the bottom, he held up the parchment for his brother to read. _Hyakkimaru, I promise to bring you back soon. You’ll come home to a more peaceful land, when the Asakura are defeated. If not under father’s rule, then under mine._

He waited for some kind of response, some subtle acknowledgement of their kinship, even foolishly hoping Hyakkimaru would take the charcoal and write something down in return. When Hyakkimaru made no such motion, he sighed, rolled up the parchment, and pressed it into his brother's hands. Then he walked away in silence.

###

Dororo did not bother sleeping in the servant’s quarters that night. He snuck into the kitchen and shoved food into a knapsack. Then he slept outside near the castle gate with his back pressed against the wall, so that at the first crack of dawn, when the company left, he would be woken up. The cart travelled slowly, so he could easily trail them from a distance, staying hidden in the underbrush off the road.

It took three days of travel to reach the mountains. They pitched their tents and lit campfires at the base. All of the Miwahito, minus the heir, had been sent back the way they came. The older bodyguard who Hidechiyo had clung to the most sat by the fire with Hyogo well into the night. She was the most unhappy to leave her charge behind, and the boy had rushed forward to tearfully embrace her on the morning they left. Tonight she broke out a flask of sake and shared it with Hyogo by the campfire. Both of them sipped from their thimble slowly and cautiously. The drink was more for the sake of forging a friendship, or at least a sense of mutual respect, than for getting irresponsibly drunk on the road.

“Interesting weapon you got there, son. How’d you learn to use it?” She commented on his steel club. Her own spear leaned against the fallen log she used for a seat.

“I’ve always trained along with my brother and my young master. I picked up a heavy weapon to complement their strengths.” said Hyogo. He struggled a little to slip back into colloquial speech when the social context called for it, after serving at Daigo’s estate for so long.

The bodyguard nodded thoughtfully. “Training as a unit. Effective, but at the cost of versatility on your own.”

“Hasn’t been a problem,” Hyogo shrugged.

“Where are you from?”

“Echizen.” That was only half true. When he was born his village was on Kaga’s side of the border. When he was taken away it was on Echizen’s side.

“Which family?”

“I’m no clansman,” he glanced over. “But you’ve served your lord for life, I’m guessing.”

The bodyguard hummed in confirmation. “I’ve held Lord Miwahito in my arms as a babe, and then I watched over his son. Until now.” she said gloomily.

“That’s commendable,” said Hyogo. He himself was only five years senior to his young lord.

“Raising two commoners to his highest ranks of guards… Daigo’s not the most traditional man, so I’ve heard,” she said. The other guards were sound asleep, she was testing how he would react to her speaking incautiously about his lord. He didn’t respond, which told her enough. She downed the last of her drink then retreated to Miwahito’s side of the camp to sleep. Hyogo circled around a few times to check the perimeters, made sure Hyakkimaru was still curled up in the carriage, then sat back down by the fire to resume his watch.

###

A rushing river cut deep into a gorge marked the border between Daigo and Miwahito territories. A narrow bridge high above it was all that connected the two clans, only wide enough for the horses to cross single-file. The cart had to go across alone so the bridge would not collapse under the weight. As soon as the last horse crossed to the other side, ten armed men leapt from their hiding spots and descended on them.

Both the Miwahito and Daigo guards instantly drew their weapons and faced the assailants. A man in a bandit’s face scarf tackled the Daigo cart driver and they both tumbled behind the carriage. It rocked dangerously, and inside, Hyakkimaru gripped the side of the wagon to stop himself from falling over. His physician grabbed him by his back brace and pulled them both out, before the carriage rolled off the cliff edge and dashed itself against the river rocks.

The old Miwahito bodyguard had reacted quicker than any of them, and already drove her spear into one man’s chest and shoved him off the cliff. She was almost too late in noticing that the assailants had only feinted their first attack against Daigo’s men, and were now targeting her clansmen. She whirled around and narrowly dodged the club swung at her. She spat in disgust. Her men, outnumbered by Daigo’s joint ambush, were picked off one by one, their horses thrown into the gorge. She charged at Hyogo. He deflected the killing blow but was knocked down. She made a desperate bid for the steep slope ahead that she could skid down and into the dense trees below. A volley of arrows to the back stopped her in her tracks.

The leader of the ambush pulled off his face covering and met Hyogo’s eyes. “Took you long enough,” he said. He was named Kinjiro, a rough-looking, middle-aged samurai, and Daigo’s most trusted right hand man. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week.

“Apologies, sir.” Hyogo went to check on his charge, while Kinjiro’s men disposed the remaining bodies into the river. He found Hyakkimaru and his physician tangled under the carriage tarp. Hyakkimaru’s neck was twisted at an angle that looked horrific, but thankfully it was not broken, just the result of his back brace slipping out of place. The physician readjusted it swiftly.

When they went back across the bridge, Kinjiro suddenly stopped and said, “That kid followed you here?”

“Dororo.” Hyogo frowned at the boy ineffectually hiding behind a small boulder in the middle of the road.

Dororo trembled. “Who- how did- why did you-”

“You shouldn’t have followed us, you’ve put yourself and the Divine Child in more danger than you’ve realized," said Hyogo. Dororo took an uneasy step back, but a man grabbed him and unceremoniously dumped him onto the same horse as Hyakkimaru. He immediately wrapped his arms around his big brother’s waist.

“Commander, what will you do with this child?” Hyogo asked reluctantly. Dororo’s angry protests died on his lips and he sucked in a breath.

“Can’t let him go, but,” Kinjiro looked Dororo up and down. “The lord needs him alive, so we’ll have to bring him along. And you’re personally responsible for watching him, my men don’t have time for babysitting.”

“What a mess,” Hyogo sighed. He leaned down to put himself on eye level with Dororo. “We’re going back to Daigo’s lands now. If you keep quiet and out of trouble, you can stay with your Aniki. Do you understand?”

Dororo felt Hyakkimaru put his hands over his. He couldn’t see the sign he was making from this angle, but he could feel its shape, cool against his skin. _Stay._

He nodded.

The escorts continued riding in tense silence, with the horse carrying the children placed squarely in the middle of the party. Dororo tried to silently communicate with Hyakkimaru without drawing attention, identifying the shapes of his hand by touch as best he could. _Aniki… okay?_

_Not… hurt._ Hyakkimaru signed very slowly, as if he was just fidgeting with his hands.

_What…_ that was basically all he could sign without moving too obviously. Hyakkimaru couldn’t respond very helpfully either. _Fell… river… samurai…_

It took him a while to realize Hyakkimaru was signing something else against his hands, hard to recognize with the lack of arm movements. _Danger. Danger. Danger._

‘Aniki?’

That was the only warning before Hyakkimaru fell over like dead weight to one side, taking Dororo with him. The horse was not so lucky, and took the sword meant for him.

“Another ambush? Who are these guys?!” Dororo tried to get up, but Hyakkimaru held him firmly and started rolling his body. There was only one man, he saw that much when he got flipped around for a second, then they both rolled over the edge of the path and down the slope. He yelped as the world spun, but Hyakkimaru didn’t let go of him and shielded him from the worst of the impact with his body.

Up above, it was a slaughter. More than a dozen skilled warriors were somehow no match against this single man. His eyes were wild, his hair had no colour, and the blade in his hand hummed with unnatural malevolence. There was no dance, no clashing of metal, each swing only ended in blood. He didn’t even care about defending himself. Kinjiro’s men dealt what should be fatal wounds against him before they were cut down, but he seemed to not notice or care.

Four men- that was all who remained standing- backed the man to the edge of the cliff. Tanosuke’s eyes focused on them, his brows twitched, like he just realized where he was. Blood poured endlessly out of the gashes in his torso.

“Go find your charges,” Kinjiro commanded harshly, keeping his eyes on the murderous swordsman.

“Commander-“

“Do your duty!” he yelled. Hyogo sprinted away and down the slope.

Tanosuke turned his sword back and forth in his hands, mesmerized by the way its engravings gleamed violet in the sun. “Nihiru is drawn towards bloodshed, you know,” he said gleefully.

Kinjiro held his shortsword in front of him in one hand. His other hand went to his many pockets. Explosives- good for causing a rockfall and killing everyone. Poison darts- he doubted poison would do anything to slow this man down. He reached for the garrote wire. “It tells me to go where I smell bloodshed. Opening an existing wound is so much more painful than creating a new one, isn’t that right? The more Nihiru drinks, the sharper it becomes,” Tanosuke continued to ramble. Just his luck that the madman was overconfident and wasting his breath. Kinjiro made a signal with his fingers, and all three men charged at once. His subordinates pinned Tanesuke down. Nihiru sliced clean through both of their bodies to intercept Kinjiro’s sword coming down on him. The mad swordsman was unnaturally strong, and he forced Kinjiro’s blade back, swinging down in an arc and cutting into his leg. He pulled back, yanking the wire tight around Tanesuke’s wrists. Nihiru sailed over the edge and disappeared below.

“Fucking hell,” Kinjiro hissed as his leg gave out under him. “Hyogo! Kid! Whatever you do, don’t touch that sword!” he shouted down in their general direction, then hauled himself into a sitting position against the cliffside, where he hurriedly pulled out bandages from his pockets to staunch the bleeding in his leg. He gave himself ten minutes to recover. If Hyogo didn’t come back by then, he was going to personally go down there and kill him for insubordination.

Somehow, Tanesuke was still breathing. His breaths came in hitched sobs, through his gasping and gurgling he cried a string of pleads for mercy. “Please. My- my sister… I was cowardly… please-“

“You want a samurai’s death, with a sword in your hands? Too late,” Kinjiro grunted.

“I was only- following my lord’s orders...”

“Were you?”

Something flashed red in Tanesuke’s eyes. Kinjiro could have sworn he was already dead. “My lord gave me a choice. It was either my life, or an innocent man’s."

He did not believe that lords offered choices. “You disobeyed him. You should have killed yourself.”

“You think yourself a man truly not afraid to die for his lord? I’ve tested many who believed the same.”

“On the contrary. I can’t do my fucking job if I’m dead.” Kinjiro shut his eyes. He wondered if he was losing more blood than he thought.

###

“Ow, ow ow,” Dororo picked himself up and rubbed his head, blinking the stars out of his vision.

_Dororo came back._ Hyakkimaru signed with one hand from under him.

“Aniki! Where did your arm go!” Dororo spotted the prosthetic which rolled some distance away and ran to fetch it. Distantly above him, he heard Kinjiro yell, and then Tanesuke’s hands, still gripping Nihiru, landed next to him with a wet splat.

“Gross!” he scrambled away from the sword. Hyakkimaru rolled up his empty sleeve and patiently waited for his arm to be reattached. “Okay, I know how to do this…” Dororo shoved the prosthetic into place and fastened the leather straps at the end around the arm stump. Hyakkimaru nodded and pulled away, flexing his elbow and wrist experimentally. _S_ _tand up?_ Dororo signed.

Hyakkimaru stood up just fine. He walked unsteadily towards Nihiru.

“Hey! What are you doing? Don’t touch that!” Dororo tried to both grab onto him and sign at him at the same time, to no avail. Hyakkimaru gripped the demonic sword by the base of its blade.

Something reverberated in his head strangely. Nihiru’s bloody aura tried to creep towards him, but could not find any purchase on him. It whispered to him in his own voice, and though he couldn’t make any sense of it without the prior experience of hearing, there was a sickening wrongness in the way it twisted this thing, this part of himself, for its own purposes. He snapped the sword in half like it was a brittle rusted thing, and let it drop to the ground.


End file.
